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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618401">Fly Me To The Moon (Fill My Heart With Song)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathtrash/pseuds/heathtrash'>heathtrash</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Worst Witch (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Reconciliation, jazz singer Arabella Hempnettle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:00:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathtrash/pseuds/heathtrash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year since Dimity Drill last saw Arabella Hempnettle, and much has changed. Dimity decides to secretly check up on Arabella as part of an attempt to get closure, and goes to her gig in a jazz lounge to see her sing. The only trouble is that Dimity has brought a date, who doesn't know anything about her history with Arabella.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Drill/Hempnettle (Worst Witch)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fly Me To The Moon (Fill My Heart With Song)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelEvangilineCarson/gifts">NoelEvangilineCarson</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dimity raised the wine glass to her lips, trying to keep from trembling as she eyed the shimmering purple curtain on the stage nervously. It had been a real risk coming here, since the Violet Moon Bar was not exactly a large venue, being one of those elite locales only usually frequented by members-only—though tonight was opened up to the public on account of their special mid-week offer—and the table that she was sitting at was dangerously close to the stage. The last thing she wanted was to be recognised—yet perhaps there was some small part of her that <i>did</i> want to get caught.</p>
<p>“Are you all right? You’ve been ignoring me all evening.”</p>
<p>Oh. Right. Claramond Cross was still there, and Dimity <i>had</i> been ignoring her all evening. Dimity shot a glance over at her. She was pretty, Dimity supposed—Ada had set them up after she sensed how upset Dimity had been after the incident at the Witch World Games. She had blue eyes—no, wait, were they green?—and chestnut brown hair that she wore in a low bun—or maybe a ponytail. Dimity let some more wine meld over her tongue, tasting the bitter notes while guilt itched at her stomach. It had only just occurred to Dimity that this was supposed to be their first date. Dimity had suggested the location, and the fact that none other than Arabella Hempnettle was due to sing tonight must have completely slipped her mind. </p>
<p>“Sorry, Claramond. I’m just a bit scatterbrained from teaching. You know how it is.”</p>
<p>Claramond was a spell science teacher at Moonridge High, a good few years younger than her. She was not even remotely Dimity’s type—which was, she supposed, why she had agreed to this date. No more P.E. teachers—that was for certain. Ada had been right. She needed to try something new to get herself over Arabella. </p>
<p>And that was why she was in a jazz lounge, waiting for that very same Arabella Hempnettle to come out onto a stage—to hear that Welsh lilt of hers once again.</p>
<p>“Please, call me Clara,” Claramond said, her oddly soothing voice cutting through Dimity’s thoughts. “So, this band—Wormy and the Apples—where do you know them from?”</p>
<p>Dimity felt her ears grow hot as she tried to think up a convincing cover. “I’ve never heard them, actually. I just found out about this place, and thought it might be interesting to check it out.” Neither of these things were <i>actually</i> lies. But they did not have to be <i>lies</i> to be wrong? This had all been a huge mistake. What had she been thinking, bringing this lovely young woman to her ex’s jazz gig under false pretences, deceiving her, ignoring her all through a painfully awkward dinner, and not even remembering what she looked like. “Maybe we should just go—they’re taking ages—”</p>
<p>But Claramond put her hand over Dimity’s. “Dimity, look— I think they’re starting—”</p>
<p>Dimity looked on in horror as the dim lighting muted further, leaving all but the stage glowing with anticipation. The instruments rose out of the darkness, standing by the chairs expectantly in the hush of several conversations halting. Stagehands gestured across the stage and shot sparking lights in an arch of firework spells.</p>
<p>A cold sweat came over Dimity as the band started to come out from the wings of the stage, and took their places by their instruments—but there was no sign of Arabella. The vocalist’s position remained alone as the crowd around applauded. Dimity drained her wine glass, and felt her heart thudding painfully in her chest.</p>
<p>Finally, just as Dimity could bear the build-up no longer, a woman in a slinky red dress strutted out to the centre of the stage, her hair set in a short crop of perfect blonde finger waves.</p>
<p>A voice projected out over the stage: “It is my pleasure to introduce… <i>Lady Spellbinding</i>!”</p>
<p>Claramond put a bony elbow on the table, leaned in close to Dimity, and whispered, “What about Wormy?”</p>
<p>Lady Spellbinding gave a giggle as her the clapping died down, a shy smile on her lips. “Oh my— what a welcome you’re giving me tonight—”</p>
<p>“—Think she’s on later. I’m gonna go to the bar. Want anything?” Dimity scooped her hand under the bowl of her empty glass.</p>
<p>Claramond stirred her lilac cocktail, smiling coyly as she looked up at Dimity. “No, I’m all right. But thank you.”</p>
<p>Her legs felt stiff with adrenaline pumping through them as she excused herself around the table next to them, to irritated looks from the patrons, into the side aisle towards the bar further down. She was sure she’d committed a crime in heading straight for the bar when a band had just been introduced, and even thought she heard, “…the usual Thursday riff-raff,” but it would just have to go on her list of infractions tonight. </p>
<p>As she leaned on the bar, waiting for the man waiting there to be served, she mused on the decor. This certainly was a fancy place—the shelves were illuminated by a soft light, and the glassware practically glittered. She had definitely not been to somewhere like this in a long time—not since the peak of her Star of the Sky days. The price list inscribed in flowing coloured chalk letters on the small blackboard on the bar next to her made her wallet groan just to consider, even though Cackle’s paid its staff more than adequately. Considering the entrance fee as well, she would have hoped that the drinks would not be quite so expensive—but she supposed that was a price of not being a member.</p>
<p>“Same again?” asked the bar witch. Earlier she had sounded gruff, and reminded Dimity of one of her old coaches with her solid forearms and short, slicked-back hair—except for her purple tailored waistcoat over a black button-up shirt, which wasn’t quite what they’d worn for training—but as Dimity set down her glass not long since her last one, she softened.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Make it a double.”</p>
<p>“A double— wine?” The bar witch raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>Dimity flicked her eyes down dolefully. “This evening couldn’t possibly get any worse.” She sighed heavily. “Just give me anything.”</p>
<p>“Look, honey, I’ve got something that’ll really relax you here.”</p>
<p>Dimity shrugged and nodded an assent in response, and dug around in the large pockets of her dress for her wallet while the bar witch started taking bottles off the shelf and pouring measures of them into a cocktail shaker.</p>
<p>“Hope the date improves,” the bar witch said, sliding the glass of golden liquid across the polished wooden bar.</p>
<p>If only it had just been a bad date. Claramond was fine—Ada’s choice in her hadn’t been entirely off, and maybe in different circumstances Dimity could have gone on a few dates with her—but she had the distinct disadvantage of not being Arabella Hempnettle. Dimity wondered why she was such a disaster as she took the glass and the napkin it stood on.</p>
<p>“But if it doesn’t, my mirror code is on the bottom of the napkin,” the bar witch mentioned in a self-consciously off-hand way, interrupting her thoughts.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Dimity responded, hoping her sarcasm was not as obvious to the bar witch as it was to herself. She could not deal with any more romantic entanglements right now. She was a hundred percent sure that this was going to be one more twig broken off the broomstick tail. At some point she would have nothing to keep her in the air any more, and the evening would come crashing down around her.</p>
<p>Dimity slipped back into her seat just as the first song finished, placing her drink on the table. She had forgotten to ask what it was—all she knew was that her wallet was a few pieces of paper lighter. She hoped it was strong.</p>
<p>“You missed a great first number,” Claramond raised her voice over the applause.</p>
<p>Dimity gave a shrug. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty more. I could hear quite well from the bar, to be honest. Are you sure you want to sit this close to the stage? We wouldn’t even have to move to get drinks if we were back there.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I like being able to see their expressions,” Claramond replied, which had no calming effect at all on Dimity’s mind. If she could see the dimples in Lady Spellbinding’s cheeks, Arabella Hempnettle would definitely be able to see her. </p>
<p>She took a long sip of her drink. It was pleasantly herbal, with an undertone of a whisky blend and smoky coffee. It was ice-cold as she felt it go down, but oddly warming. Dimity could tell that it was meant to be relaxing, but the anxious part of her brain would simply not shut up.</p>
<p>Around her, witches began tapping their feet to the riff that the double bassist started to pluck out, while Dimity tried to find it in herself to enjoy the performance. Any other day, she was sure she would have loved it. The stagehands were certainly using magical illusions to great effect—and Dimity wondered how difficult it would be to work into a broomstick formation. As she started to settle into the diversion of the illusory magic, she had to admit that the music was not bad. She found it showy rather than soulful—though it was clear that all the musicians were very passionate about making their instruments sing out, the hurried vocals and the accompanying light show detracted somewhat from the heart of the songs. Dimity would not have said that she was <i>spellbound</i> by Miss Spellbinding’s performance, but she admitted it did make her marginally distracted from her worries about seeing Arabella.</p>
<p>Claramond, by comparison, was enchanted—maybe it had been a good choice of date for her, or maybe just enough outside her experience to be truly eye-opening. Maybe they could laugh about the whole Arabella thing in a few years’ time—but it was more likely that after tonight, Claramond would never speak to her again, if what she anticipated would end up happening.</p>
<p>Calls for an encore finally came, and Dimity applauded along with everyone after, if possible, an even flashier display, but felt a little as though she were trying to be a supportive teacher rather than an entertained audience. Miss Spellbinding’s performance was good—she just seemed quite young and as though she had not quite found her confidence.</p>
<p>Claramond’s ecstatic face turned towards hers. “Wasn’t she good? Don’t you think she’s wonderful?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dimity said absent-mindedly, nerves biting once more. “Wonderful.”</p>
<p>The darkness lifted as the lights came up, to reveal a few people started to shift around as they headed for the bar or to freshen up.</p>
<p>“Do you mind waiting here while I pop to the loo? I don’t want to lose our table,” Claramond said, grabbing her purse and putting her hand on Dimity’s shoulder as she stood.</p>
<p>Dimity returned a rather fixed smile. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to lose the prime seat in the house.”</p>
<p>She let out a sigh as she watched Claramond leaving, and muttered a curse under her breath. She had been planning on trying to accidentally leave the table unattended for enough time for someone to nab it from under her careful watch. Well, that was her last chance at attempting to save this date. Now she was utterly doomed to being <i>seen</i> attending by Arabella, and she was bound to assume the worst of Dimity for it.</p>
<p>The intention in coming had never been to throw Arabella off her game, or upset her, or even to let her <i>know</i> that she was here to hear her. She had just wanted to see how she had been getting on after her recovery from the Witch World Games—and admittedly did want to see if Arabella was any good as a jazz singer. The whole thing would have been easy to accomplish—lurk at a back table, catch a few songs, and then slip out before Arabella noticed her. She supposed that was the sort of thing she could have done easily on her own. <i>Why</i> had she insisted on suggesting this as the date location?</p>
<p>Dimity was always one for sailing in at the last possible moment, but Claramond—dear, sweet, spell science teacher Claramond Cross—had wanted to get there <i>early</i>. She was like a Hecate Hardbroom when it came to punctuality, apparently, except with smiling muscles and the ability to relax every now and then. As soon as they had barely finished their meal, she’d chivvied Dimity along from finishing the last of her garlic bread—which was the best thing to mop up a spicy arrabbiata—and then they had had to <i>queue up</i> outside the venue. They had been <i>those</i> people. Sure, with some things it was expected to turn up earlier than the start time and a bit of queueing or waiting could be necessary, but this was a jazz lounge, not an important appointment or assessment. </p>
<p>Dimity regretted not taking that bit of garlic bread in a napkin. It would have been the perfect thing to stress-eat in times like this.</p>
<p>Claramond was taking <i>ages</i>. Dimity knew better than to try to brave the queues for the toilets in these sorts of places, but needs must sometimes. Dimity wished she could have gone for a tactical wee beforehand—something she often advised her girls to do before a witchball match or flying display to calm their nerves. But she had told Claramond she would guard the table. Surely she would forgive her if she said she was desperate.</p>
<p>Just as she was considering jumping up and doing exactly that, Claramond reappeared.</p>
<p>“Long queue?” Dimity said, trying to hide her disappointment.</p>
<p>“Yes, it was a bit of a nightmare, but it looks like I was just in time.” Claramond slipped back into her seat. Almost everyone was sat down again, and the conversation was starting to hush once more.</p>
<p>It was now or never. She had to try to explain that there was a history between herself and ‘Wormy’. It would be the decent thing to do. “Claramond, there’s something I should tell you—”</p>
<p>“—shh, I think something’s happening!” Claramond nodded to the stage as the lights dimmed.</p>
<p>Dimity prickled with anticipation as she prepared for what was to come, regretting that she had not managed to accidentally lose their table or come clean to Claramond about why they were really there. She tried to see the bright side—this would be an opportunity for her to put the entire Arabella thing behind her. She had already imagined what she thought it would be like—that Wormy and the Apples was at best a front. Just like her other pursuits in life, this would be another way in which Arabella had cheated her way into people’s favour. But Dimity was sure someone would have found her out by now, considering that she had been under such scrutiny after what had happened at the Witch World Games. Maybe Arabella had turned over a new leaf. Dimity would just have to reserve judgment until she was absolutely sure of any foul play.</p>
<p>The stage was dark except for a single spotlight—the shadows shifted around as the band moved into position. At first, Dimity squinted around for Arabella, but then she caught sight of something descending from above. Along the beam of light in the centre of the stage, a ribbon of swirling black and glittering gold particles cascaded down in front of the microphone. Dimity held her breath as the form of Arabella crystallised in the air—first blurring as the particles shimmered, then taking shape and solidity.</p>
<p>She had no idea what she had been preparing for, but the sight of the woman she once loved there on stage—in a black tuxedo with gleaming gold bowtie, lapels, buttonholes, and exquisitely tailored waistcoat—was enough to make her light-headed. Arabella’s hand was poised on the brim of a dashing top hat, low over her eyes. In one confident move, Arabella lifted her head to look out into the darkness and her silent audience, hazel eyes twinkling under a brush of gold eyeshadow and sharp black eyeliner. Without introduction or warning, she sang out the first bold line in a low, sultry voice, unaccompanied, raw, and full of emotion. <i>I’ve been so many places in my life and time.</i> Then, her band eased in to accompany her, picking up a melody and steady rhythm.</p>
<p>Arabella unhooked the microphone from the stand and began to walk about the stage as the mood took her. <i>I’ve treated you unkindly but darling, can’t you see?</i> Her wingtip shoes with their shapely heels were at eye-level for Dimity, and Dimity found herself wondering how much taller Arabella would be than her with the added height. She was already a good four inches taller in flats. She tried not to think about it too much as Arabella’s performance grew more and more passionate as she reached a crescendo. <i>But now I’m so much better and if my words don’t come together—listen to the melody, ‘cause my love is in there hiding.</i> As an opening number, it was spectacular in all the ways that she had been disappointed in the first, with less ostentatious staging, allowing the song to breathe authentically. It was a far cry from Miss Spellbinding’s consciously performative set.</p>
<p>The silence gripping the audience shattered into applause as the final chords sounded, and Dimity was not ashamed to be among them.</p>
<p>“She looks familiar,” Claramond murmured, putting her hand on Dimity’s shoulder and getting too close to her. Dimity could feel her hot breath on her ear as she spoke, and it surprised her how flirty Claramond was being.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Dimity replied, uneasily. </p>
<p>She hoped Claramond would not recognise Arabella from any of the papers that had printed her picture—a gorgeous shot of her back from their competitive days, with her hair in her favourite vintage forties style, complete with victory rolls, next to a shot of her as a wriggling worm in a jar. The press had really wrung Arabella out—they had dug up the whole of her sordid history with Dimity—well, minus how close they had been—and how Dimity still suffered her magical muscle injury because of her. While her past crimes had been dismissed as a sporting accident, the rumours rising up again had been ugly, and worsened the backlash against her. Arabella had been given community service, and a ban on teaching and participating in the Witch World Games, as a competitor and as a coach by The Magic Council.</p>
<p>Evidently the bad press was not enough to foil her new career as a jazz singer in a witch bar, if the reception to her first song was anything to go by. As the applause died down, Arabella lifted the microphone once more to her lips. “Thank you,” she said, with a quiet smile that Dimity found completely entrancing. Chantresses did sometimes use magic to make their performances more compelling, but Dimity had a feeling that this particular pull she felt towards Arabella had nothing at all to do with a spell.</p>
<p>Arabella crossed over to the grand piano, where she took off her top hat and placed it to one side of the music stand. Underneath the hat, her hair was swept in a perfectly executed swoop, and from this angle, Dimity could see that it was twisted back into a low chignon at her nape. Her pianist, whose warm brown skin glowed under the stage light, nodded her head of short buzzed hair to Arabella—and began to tickle out a tender melody from the keys.</p>
<p>As soon as Arabella’s low voice wrapped around her once more, a shiver passed through Dimity. It was hard to believe that this was the same Arabella who had been driven to extremes of ambition in her sporting career. Her song was gorgeous—humbling, even—and it was clear that she was revelling in her own ability of expression.</p>
<p>If Dimity had thought that this would help her get over Arabella, she was sorely mistaken. She hoped that that tug in her heart would be gone, or somehow faded away in the wake of Arabella’s betrayal at the Witch World Games fiasco, but it had never hurt more. All seeing Arabella sing served to do was make her feel even more ridiculously for her, and she forgot everything—her resolve to get over her—her need to move on—the fact that she was here with someone else, which she thought would have dissuaded her. She grew more and more lost in Arabella’s mannerisms, and it did not even matter to her that she was falling for an act—a stage presence.</p>
<p>Dimity suddenly felt Claramond’s hand touching hers on the table. Once she tore her gaze away from Arabella, it took her a moment to register how utterly bizarre that was, and wondered why Claramond was now staring into her eyes so intently.</p>
<p>Claramond leaned forward, and before Dimity could react—she felt lips upon hers—and at that moment, Arabella’s bold singing cut off in the middle of a note with a falter, but picked up again smoothly. Dimity withdrew in surprise, but it was too late. She glanced up to Arabella, who was determinedly looking out into the audience, her jaw set in clear irritation, quickly trying to pass off her change in mood for a shift in dynamics, and the band played louder to draw out the new, raw emotion that was belting out of her. </p>
<p>Dimity knew three things simultaneously—that Arabella had seen her, that Arabella had also seen Claramond kiss her—but also, that Arabella could not possibly be using a mimicry spell for her voice, because it would not have faltered in the way that it had if she had been using a spell. That incredible voice was all her.</p>
<p>As the music played on, Dimity sickened to her stomach with shame that she had even been caught attending Arabella’s gig, but even moreso because she had been caught in a kiss she had no desire for, by the woman she would have done anything to love. She sat meekly as Arabella let out a powerful note towards the end that shook her to the marrow, before Arabella cast a look of pure loathing down at her, as if regarding a mess stuck to her shoe.</p>
<p>“Why did you <i>do</i> that?” Dimity hissed, as soon as the song was over, in the cover of the applause bubbling up around them, and as Arabella turned her face up brightly to her adoring fans.</p>
<p>Claramond looked astonished. “I thought you wanted me to—? You looked enraptured.”</p>
<p>Dimity blushed deeply. Had she been that obvious? “By the <i>music</i>! Look, I’m really sorry, but I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I guess I’m just not ready for this dating-new-people thing.”</p>
<p>The applause subsided, and band started playing something lively, the brazen saxophone jarring against the seriousness of their conversation. Dimity wished they could have had this discussion at a less awkward moment, but she could hardly sit there and let Claramond think that she had been okay with that kiss.</p>
<p>“It’s all right, I understand. I’m— going to head to the bar,” Claramond said, taking Dimity’s now depleted glass with her as she went. The napkin was stuck to the bottom, and Dimity could see the mirror code on the bottom. She almost called Claramond back to retrieve it, but she was already too far away, and had left Dimity to Arabella’s mercy. </p>
<p>The song took on a new poignancy as the lyrics sang of a woman cruelly teasing her lover. Dimity wondered if Arabella had chosen it specifically for her, but then quickly chastised herself for being so self-centred. It had been just over a year now since they had last seen each other, and so much could change in a year. For all Dimity knew, Arabella might have a new partner now—maybe it was even someone from the band. </p>
<p>She dragged her eyes from Arabella to the band members, looking for likely candidates. They were all dressed in matching black tuxedos with gold flowers pinned to their lapels. The light brown-skinned woman strumming out a sensual riff from the heavy strings of her double bass had long dark hair plaited neatly out of her face that danced over her back as she moved in tandem with the music. The saxophonist was pale under the stage lights, with short white-blonde hair contrasting with her heavy mascara and the black lipstick on her upper lip—and then from behind the drumkit was an older woman with wispy grey-streaked hair under a floral headband, despite the dress code, her face heavily sun-weathered.</p>
<p>Dimity honestly had no idea what Arabella’s type even was—she had flirted with <i>everyone</i> when Dimity had been dating her—mostly to get people to give her what she wanted. It had always driven Dimity up the wall with jealousy, even when she knew it was just one of her games. She had a single moment of that sobering memory before she looked back at the present-day Arabella and her smouldering eyes, and once more was lost to the fantasy of being one of the women of whom she sang.</p>
<p>For the next few numbers, Arabella’s anger seemed to have dissipated, as she sang a string of yearning torch songs—Dimity found it difficult to discern whether the setlist was pre-planned and part of her usual repertoire, or whether it had been inspired by what she had seen at the table at her feet. Dimity doubted Arabella really looked back on their romance in their university days as being anything significant—she can’t have done, to have treated her the way she did when she ditched her teaching job at Cackle’s once she had successfully stolen Dimity’s Star of the Sky formula, and at the Witch World Games. She mulled over that burn to her self-esteem while looking longingly up at the woman with whom she had such a fraught history.</p>
<p>It was only after a little while that Dimity realised that Claramond had not yet returned from the bar—and she suddenly felt a sting of something between guilt and relief when she looked around and could see no sign of her at all. The unexpected kiss did kind of put things in perspective, though—Dimity could not pity Claramond for too long when she thought of the fact that <i>that</i> had happened. Did no one think about consent these days?</p>
<p>She tried to put Claramond Cross behind her, which was not overly challenging—Arabella’s voice drove the staid little spell science teacher from her mind as she crooned along with a slow, bewitching arrangement—<i>I can see, no matter how near you’ll be, you’ll never belong to me, but I can dream, can’t I?</i></p>
<p>As each song died away, and Dimity clapped whole-heartedly along with everyone else, she realised that the time she had remaining with Arabella was diminishing. Although it was arrogant to think it, Dimity really felt that she had had something of an intimate evening with her. It was probably just the effect of sitting so close to the stage—she was in the direct receiving range of Arabella’s emotional delivery, after all—but a part of her hoped that she had inspired more than just Arabella’s ire.</p>
<p>“I’d like to thank you all for being such a generous audience,” Arabella murmured into the microphone, at the end of a particularly hopelessly romantic song. “Especially with tonight’s more bluesy set. I hope there’s someone waiting for you back home, because you’re going to need some love to cheer you up after my singing.” The audience gave a good-natured laugh, along with whistles and cheers. “But just in case you don’t, we have a special song here to finish up.” Arabella gave a shy, slightly sad laugh to herself—and as the applause swelled once again, she merely said, “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Arabella looked down at her feet, the sad expression still fixed as her band struck up a spirited jaunt, and Arabella threw her arms wide open. <i>Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars.</i> The old classic suited her voice perfectly. Dimity’s eyes widened as Arabella combined some illusory spells as she swept her hand about, casting twinkling stars all about her, where they hovered as she swayed about the stage. <i>In other words—darling, kiss me.</i> The words fanned Dimity’s longing as she watched—it was an assertive, daring-you-to-love-me delivery, and the perfect finale to an impassioned set. The last triumphant mass of sound rose to the ceiling, with the words, <i>In other words—I love you.</i> Dimity could have melted right out of her seat.</p>
<p>As exuberant applause burst from the crowd behind Dimity, Arabella thanked each member of her band, before the cries of “encore!” deafened around her. Dimity was slow to start clapping, still in a daze from hearing Arabella singing <i>I love you</i>. She joined in the cheering and clapping as Wormy and all her Apples walked off-stage. The applause carried through until Arabella and the pianist returned, beaming as they approached the piano.</p>
<p>The spotlight narrowed so only area around the piano was lit, and the lounge once more became still in anticipation. Arabella leaned on the piano casually, in a way that made Dimity wish she was more musically-inclined. The pianist, in a pretty trill of the keys, led Arabella into a beautiful downbeat melody. It was familiar to Dimity, but she did not recognise it until Arabella sang, <i>Our day will come</i>, with nothing but the quiet piano to accompany her voice as it rang out in the silence. It was heartbreakingly romantic. Dimity realised she would have to talk to Arabella after her set—no matter what it took. She could not have Arabella thinking that the kiss meant anything—or worse—was pre-meditated as part of a plan to sabotage Arabella’s performance. <i>Our dreams have magic because we’ll always stay in love this way.</i> Even if their day would never come—even if all of that was in the past—she had to clear the air.</p>
<p>As the song ended, Arabella drank in her praise with a serene smile. She took the hand of her pianist, and brought her to centre stage and kissed her cheek, before humbly taking the side to allow her the full praise. Dimity wondered what the kiss meant—and if this was their usual thing to do at the end of their concerts, as a couple. Her stomach turned. Well, she supposed it really wasn’t her business what Arabella’s life was like now—but she did know that she had to talk to Arabella, to set things right.</p>
<p>Dimity watched as they both descended the steps to the side of the stage. The pianist turned down a corridor to backstage, leaving Arabella alone for a moment as she proceeded down towards the bar. Dimity saw her opportunity and slipped out of her seat, excusing herself between the tables, fighting the crowds trying to get to the toilets in the interval as she struggled to reach Arabella.</p>
<p>At that moment, Arabella noticed Dimity and stared at her with wide, hurt eyes, and hurried her way further back. The tide of the crowd prevented her from getting very far. </p>
<p>Dimity cursed the dress she had on as it snagged on one of the chairs of the nearest patrons. “We need to talk,” Dimity said as she caught up finally.</p>
<p>“I have nothing to say to you,” Arabella spat, making a turn for the nearest exit, and let the gilded glass door shut behind her just as a crowd of people passed in front of her.</p>
<p>Dimity excused herself impatiently between the queue of people idly chatting about how wonderful the music had been, bragging about when they’d first heard Wormy, and some irritation at the presence of non-members taking up space—she got to the door, and pushed it open. Arabella was already heading towards the backstage exit, and Dimity ran after her, wishing she had worn something a little more practical.</p>
<p>Arabella must have heard her footsteps, because she wheeled around as Dimity caught up with her again, her face pinched from holding back tears. “You had a <i>year</i>, Dimity. And you turn up now—tonight, with a date—to tear down everything I’ve tried to accomplish. Put yourself in my boots.”</p>
<p>This was all going wrong. Dimity had to admit that Arabella really had a point there. “Bella,” Dimity whispered. “Please. Let me explain.”</p>
<p>Arabella shook her head and turned on her heel. Dimity put her hand on Arabella’s arm to stop her—Arabella’s face snapped up, eyes burning, while the gold of her tuxedo still sparkled joyously underneath. She wrenched her sleeve away from Dimity. “Do you <i>really</i> expect me to listen to you after you came here, with your new girlfriend, <i>snoggin’</i> in the centre table while I had to continue my set?” Arabella seethed, her Welsh accent becoming more pronounced as her anger burst out.</p>
<p>Dimity looked up at Arabella. She looked so much taller than she had even when she had been on stage. “Look, I— I’m sorry about what you saw. It isn’t like that. She’s not my girlfriend. I barely know her—”</p>
<p>“—And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”</p>
<p>“—No, I mean— she sort of launched herself at me. This was all Ada’s plan to— try to help me get over you,” Dimity finished rather pathetically. “She set us up. I’d never met her before tonight.”</p>
<p>Arabella did not try to disguise her surprise at her confession, and Dimity felt the air in her lungs grow heavy as she tried to calm down. “So you— brought her here. To see my gig.” Arabella’s lips quirked into a smile, perhaps despite herself.</p>
<p>“That’s right.” Dimity nodded awkwardly, trying not to blush with the memories of all the times she had seen that expression lighting up Arabella’s face. “Let’s just say the experience only served to do the opposite of getting over you.”</p>
<p>Arabella rolled her eyes and sighed. “Well, Dimity, you certainly have your timing, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Dimity winced. This was not at all how she would have chosen to see Arabella again. All she had wanted was to see that she was doing all right for herself. “Let me buy you a drink—as an apology.”</p>
<p>At the word ‘apology’, Arabella’s expression turned gentle. She nodded, and they walked silently, side-by-side, back along the corridor. Dimity bit her lip. Maybe this was going to be all right—Arabella seemed to find it at least a little amusing that she was an incredibly useless lesbian. It was better that she had that reaction than actual loathing.</p>
<p>By the time they got back into the main lounge area, the crowds had dispersed somewhat. There was a small queue for the bar that dissipated—the next band looked like they were setting up, and in the anxiety to get back to their seats, the patrons were unwilling to linger.</p>
<p>The bar witch who had hit on her earlier came over, looking between Arabella and Dimity with some degree of confusion. Evidently she had not presupposed an acquaintance between them, and for a brief—very brief, and certainly irrational—moment, Dimity wondered if she had ever turned her charms onto Arabella. </p>
<p>We’ll have— two of whatever she’s having,” Dimity directed to the bar witch. She felt too agitated to make decisions right now.</p>
<p>“Gin and cranberry with a twist of lime,” Arabella reeled off, not missing a beat. “Thank you.” The bar witch inclined her head and busied herself pouring the drinks, while Arabella explained to Dimity, “It’s my post-set drink of choice. Brings the nerves back down.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t look nervous when you were up there,” Dimity said, biting back the unfiltered thoughts her brain was bombarding her with. <i>You looked—extremely attractive.</i></p>
<p>“All part of the performance,” Arabella returned dryly.</p>
<p>Dimity looked around the bar desperately for a change of subject, her foot jiggling on the strut of the bar stool with her own nerves. “This is a nice place.”</p>
<p>Arabella raised her eyebrows. “Surprised?”</p>
<p>Dimity bit her lip. “I just wasn’t sure how you’d do after all the bad press. They were pretty brutal.”</p>
<p>The bar witch slid across the two drinks in highballs with black glass stirrers—the lime looked deliciously fresh against the pink of the cranberry. Dimity paid with what was now pretty much the dregs of her money. Each of them took her drink and sipped in unison. Dimity could feel the temporary truce palpably.</p>
<p>“They were,” Arabella said, sighing. “Did I deserve it? Well.” She stirred her drink.</p>
<p>At the time, Dimity had had a sense of catharsis seeing Arabella be truly screwed over by every two-a-penny journalist who got hold of her story to plaster over the witching news rags. But as the months went by, she had felt the guilt nagging as she considered how Arabella’s mental health had always been fairly shaky when it came to how seriously ambitious she was. She watched Arabella drink for a moment, remembering all the times she could have stepped in.</p>
<p>“You’re a reformed worm, now,” Dimity said with a soft smile. “By the way—I’m sorry about that—turning you into a worm. I really should have tried talking to you like an adult instead.”</p>
<p>“It’s all right, Dimity. It’s not as though I was behaving like an adult, either.”</p>
<p>Dimity shook her head. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and honestly there was so much pressure on you over our years training together. It can’t have been easy being outshone all the time, and our coach never really gave you a fair shot.”</p>
<p>Arabella did not respond for a moment, as if seeing her for the first time in years, her eyes full of regret. “I’ve come to a lot of realisations about that time, too. I wasn’t well, but that was how I chose to behave, and I didn’t ever seek the help I needed. I didn’t recognise when I needed it, until it was too late. You tend to have a lot of time to think when you’re a worm with nothing more complicated than turning soil in potion ingredient beds.”</p>
<p>“They made you spend your community service <i>as a worm</i>?” Dimity asked incredulously.</p>
<p>Arabella looked into her glass. “Only about a week of it, before they convicted me. They changed me back so I could speak at my trial, but I hadn’t really much to say. I couldn’t tell you if I was more angry or upset. They sentenced me to six months of service for The Magic Council, my magic was temporarily bound, and I had to attend a rehabilitation program.”</p>
<p>“Gosh, that sounds rough. Six months with no magic?”</p>
<p>“It was, but the counselling in the program did really help,” Arabella said. “I always thought that my true strength was my confidence—but the whole thing really broke me down. I had to rediscover a lot about myself, including where I found that confidence. Turns out that that’s quite difficult when you’ve based your self-image on a tangled web of lies.”</p>
<p>“But look at you now!” Dimity said, gesturing at Arabella’s dazzling outfit as she sipped her drink elegantly, having just given a stellar performance. “How’d you fall into becoming a superstar jazz singer?” Her own voice felt falsely cheery to her.</p>
<p>Arabella smiled, raising an eyebrow at Dimity’s praise. “During my night shifts at the Council, cleaning the offices and loos and other glamorous things—I sang just to pass the time, and realised I had a real passion for it. Maybe it sounds odd, but it was the one bit of ‘magic’ left to me. One of the employees was staying late one night, heard me caterwauling away, and was impressed enough that he put me in contact with a few musicians. We met once to see what we could do, and when my service was up, we started proper rehearsals. It was difficult at first because they were all professionals, but they were all so lovely. Tilly especially—our pianist.”</p>
<p>Dimity thought back to the kiss Arabella had planted on the pianist’s cheek, and gently cupped her hand around the base of her glass. “Are you two—?”</p>
<p>“No, she’s happily married to the bassist. In fact, I’m the only singleton of the lot.”</p>
<p>Dimity tried not to raise her hopes at that last comment. “The jazz thing is really working out for you, though. You were <i>incredible</i>. I was practically on the edge of my seat, hanging off every note.”</p>
<p>“When your date wasn’t snogging your face off,” Arabella goaded her.</p>
<p>“Look, it was a <i>really</i> bad date,” Dimity replied, “and that was the worst part. All through dinner beforehand she kept talking about herself. And she left after I told her I wasn’t ready to date new people.”</p>
<p>“I’m just teasing you, Dimity,” Arabella said coyly, waving a hand that got perhaps a little close to Dimity’s, and then settling it on the bar at an entirely too enticing distance.</p>
<p>“I was genuinely mortified that you saw that,” Dimity admitted, taking a sip from her drink to have an excuse to move her hand away from the temptation of accidentally brushing against Arabella’s. “What I really didn’t want you to think was that I’d planned the whole thing to upset your cauldron.”</p>
<p>Arabella sighed. “I have to say that the thought did cross my mind. But I just tried to press on and deliver the best performance ever—I can’t say there wasn’t a smidgeon of spite, but I needed to do it for me. That was always what this was about—working through my feelings, and trying to turn them into something healthy.”</p>
<p>“You know, I’ve always admired your tenacity. I don’t want to sound patronising, but I’m seriously impressed by how you’ve turned everything around.”</p>
<p>Arabella glowed at Dimity’s assessment of her, and her voice dropped into a lower, more earnest register. “It wasn’t an easy road. But that means a lot, coming from you.”</p>
<p>“I never thought you actually listened to what I had to say.” Dimity grimaced.</p>
<p>“Dimity—” Arabella twitched her hand towards Dimity’s on the bar, but retracted her fingers almost immediately. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t— You have no reason to trust me.”</p>
<p>Reaching out a slightly trembling hand, Dimity rested her fingers on the back of Arabella’s hand, before her thumb involuntarily stroked against her wrist. <i>Oh, bats. What am I <b>doing</b>?</i> To her utter astonishment, however, she felt Arabella’s hand turn under her own, and Arabella’s fingertips traced along the inside of her wrist to the sensitive part of her palm. Dimity closed her eyes and caught her breath. </p>
<p>When she opened her eyes, Arabella was looking at her questioningly, head tilted slightly. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”</p>
<p>Their seats suddenly felt miles apart. “No, I really— I’m just—”</p>
<p>“Not dating new people?” Arabella finished for her, her disappointment palpable.</p>
<p>“I said that to put Claramond off,” Dimity murmured, slightly embarrassed that she had to spell it out for Arabella. “And I didn’t say anything about— people I already know.” She made eye contact, hoping that she wouldn’t have to clarify <i>that</i>.</p>
<p>Arabella’s mouth twisted in amusement. “What would you say to finishing these drinks and continuing this conversation somewhere a little more private?”</p>
<p>“O—okay,” Dimity said weakly, barely trusting herself to say anything else. She eyed the glass. It would be tempting to down it, but honestly, if this was going the way she thought it would, she would not want to feel numbed or out of control in any way. “I’m pretty much done with mine.”</p>
<p>Arabella was further into her glass than Dimity, and finished off the last mouthful, before sliding off the stool and offering her hand to Dimity. </p>
<p>Dimity managed to unstick her throat enough to say, “Wormy is quite the gallant,” before losing the ability to speak as Arabella’s hand slipped around hers. </p>
<p>“Wormy knows how to treat a gorgeous woman,” Arabella responded effortlessly, as she led them away from the bar, past the tables of guests now enjoying some gentle smooth rhythms laid down by the in-house quartet. </p>
<p>Holding hands with Arabella Hempnettle was far from how Dimity had imagined the evening ending—or was it only beginning? Arabella brought them through an arch to the left of the stage, to a corridor backstage. </p>
<p>“I don’t think I’ve ever been backstage before,” Dimity commented to ease her nerves, “unless you count at Cackle’s, chivvying students along for Miss Cackle’s birthday or school play.”</p>
<p>“It’s not as glamorous as you’d imagine.” Arabella led her to a door marked <i>Green Room</i> in gilt letters on a wooden plaque. “Well, maybe this one is.”</p>
<p>Dimity followed in after Arabella, and gasped in delight. “Wow, you’ve even got the mirrors with the little lights.” Dimity gazed about the room—it looked like an incredibly wealthy person’s lounge, with its plush sofas, polished wood floors, a chandelier, and its own small bar. The make-up station and wardrobe were the only indications that it had a particular function.</p>
<p>“We’ve been in some that are little more than broom cupboards, and had to do make up in a hand-mirror. This is top end, this is.”</p>
<p>Dimity admired Arabella’s world—and the sight of her in it. It was a new thing to see her quite so at home with herself. She could hear the sound of the jazz quartet on stage, muffled through the walls. The syncopated rhythm was steady, in contrast to the scattered, rapid tempo of Dimity’s heart as she wondered where their conversation would take them next. </p>
<p>Just as she was about to try to think of a casual segue to a compliment, an unfamiliar voice called from somewhere, with a thick Welsh Valleys accent. “Brought a friend with you, Wormy?”</p>
<p>Arabella started as she realised they were not alone, and gave an uneasy laugh. “Oh—are you still here? Something like that.”</p>
<p>“I thought you said somewhere <i>more private</i>,” Dimity muttered aside to her, as a woman in a drapey purple dress and a thin black cardigan—whom she recognised, even out of the sleek black suit, by her dark plaited hair as the one who had played the double bass for Arabella’s band—appeared from behind a stack of instrument cases. </p>
<p>“All right, lovely?” </p>
<p>Dimity would normally have given her a warm smile and introduced herself, but she was really not in the right frame of mind. She gave a tentative nod, and felt herself grow very warm when she realised she was still holding hands with Arabella, feeling for all the world like a twenty-something again. She did not let go, however.</p>
<p>“Technically it <i>is</i> more private than the bar of a jazz lounge,” Arabella whispered back playfully. </p>
<p>The woman frowned, somewhat amusedly at Dimity. “Not being funny, but you were one kissing the brunette on the front centre table, isn’t it?” </p>
<p>“<i>She</i> kissed <i>me</i>, and it was not really what I had in mind, to be honest.”</p>
<p>“There’s an interesting story, there,” the bassist said, with a suggestive smile.</p>
<p>“Perhaps a story for another time, Angharad?” Arabella returned pointedly, indicating the door with her eyes.</p>
<p>“Well! I know when I’m not wanted.” Angharad gave an exaggerated sigh. Dimity suspected she was dying to hear all the details. She seemed fun, but Dimity wanted nothing more than for her to leave right now. </p>
<p>“You know very well Tilly’s waiting for you by the truck, and she definitely wants you,” Arabella said, subtly using her thumb to trace circles on Dimity’s palm. <i>I want you</i>—Dimity stroked her thumb over Arabella’s, hoping Arabella meant what she was also trying to communicate. </p>
<p>Angharad hid a smile, and with a wave of her hands, transferred the stack of instrument cases away. “So you’re making your own way home, is it?” </p>
<p>Arabella gave a coy smile, and winked at Dimity. “I’d never kiss and tell.”</p>
<p>Dimity felt her heart skip a beat. Arabella had her wrapped around her little finger—but there was no place Dimity would rather be. </p>
<p>“Don’t misbehave, mind. We’ve got a good deal going with this venue,” Angharad warned them playfully, and picking up a garment bag, </p>
<p>Angharad left, leaving Arabella slightly exasperated. “Sorry about her. Lovely witch, but quite nosey. Now—where were we?”</p>
<p>“Misbehaving?” Dimity smiled, raising an eyebrow suggestively.</p>
<p>“Wait,” Arabella started to say, a tinge of sadness in her voice. “Before we get ahead of ourselves—earlier, you said you never got over me?” </p>
<p>Dimity sobered up immediately, and deflated somewhat. Arabella was right—they had to be sensible about this. “Of course I didn’t. I—couldn’t. But I only came to check you were doing all right for yourself. I didn’t really mean for—any of this to happen. I wasn’t even going to talk to you.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Arabella responded, sounding a little distant. </p>
<p>“That doesn’t mean I regret what happened,” Dimity corrected herself hastily, heart wrenching as Arabella’s expression slipped.. “I acted on what I felt, and— I can’t help that. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that—” Dimity braced herself, biting her lip. She was either going to say this now, or never at all. She worried that it was too much—too late—but she had to give voice to it before she lost her nerve. “I’m still in love with you. It was all I could think about, watching you sing so passionately. I really wished that passion could have been—for me.”</p>
<p>Arabella looked down at her. Her face was <i>so</i> painfully beautiful. She could feel it still, twisting her heart—as though time had stopped. Arabella reached up and stroked Dimity’s cheek. “It was,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “It was always for you.”</p>
<p>The next thing Dimity knew, she was being kissed for the second time that evening—the lips that caressed over hers this time, however, were soft, welcome, and moving teasingly slowly—Dimity found herself giving in, going up on tiptoe to reach Arabella’s lips, while Arabella’s arms drew her closer into her space until they were pressed against one another.</p>
<p>Arabella broke off—but then went in for another kiss—and then another—and Dimity surrendered to the feelings that she had been battling with for so many years, finally sure that this time, everything was going to be different. They parted—if only for air—and Dimity tried to remember that there was a floor beneath her feet, as she lost control in her knees.</p>
<p>“Did you shrink since we last did that?” Though Arabella’s tone was playful, her strikingly hazel eyes were slightly glistening with emotion.</p>
<p>Dimity laughed, giddy from the kiss. In flat shoes, she felt very short indeed as she faced Arabella, who was currently a good six inches taller than her. “You’re wearing heels, and I haven’t worn heels since—” She almost said, <i>since you knocked me off my broom</i>, but decided that was a step too far. “Just haven’t worn them for a while. Not my thing any more.”</p>
<p>Arabella shook her head in mock-despair. “There’s <i>barely</i> a heel on these. Well, since you’re <i>so</i> short, I suppose I’ll have to make a sacrifice and take them off. But at the moment, you are the perfect height for this—” and with that, Arabella kissed her forehead, and drew her into an embrace.</p>
<p>Dimity leaned her head upon Arabella’s heart, and could feel the steady beat against her cheek as they swayed slightly to the gentle ghost of music that surrounded them. She was safe in Arabella’s arms—a comforting sensation that she had been craving for a long time. Arabella didn’t have to say <i>I missed you</i>—Dimity could feel it in her heart.</p>
<p>The sound of the jazz quartet stopped at that moment, and a round of applause interrupted Dimity’s dreamy thoughts. She felt for a bizarre moment that they were applauding she and Arabella, and lifted her head from Arabella’s chest to look into her eyes. Dimity brushed her fingers lightly against Arabella’s cheek—around her ear—and back where the twist of the low chignon was pinned firmly into place. With a twirl of her fingers, Arabella’s hair fell loose and spilled down over her shoulders. Where it had been set neatly for her performance, it now hung smooth and free—and Dimity sank her fingers into the thick hair at her nape. Arabella’s eyes closed in pleasure as Dimity drew them closer together for another kiss, their warmth melding together again.</p>
<p>When they broke apart, ever so slightly woozy from forgetting how to breathe, Dimity spied the top hat Arabella had been wearing earlier on the mostly empty clothing rack. “You know, this outfit is really working for you. The top hat was— well, frankly, it was hot.”</p>
<p>Arabella, following Dimity’s gaze, retrieved the top hat, twirling it up her arm and onto her head in one smooth movement. Dimity was reminded of some of the fancy little tricks Arabella liked to impress people with when they had been broommates at university. She supposed she had picked it up again for her showbiz life.</p>
<p>“That’s oddly quite adorable.”</p>
<p>“D’you know what else is adorable?” Arabella asked, before leading Dimity to the mirror.</p>
<p>“Oh no,” Dimity said, laughing, as Arabella made her look in the mirror at herself, before whipping the hat off and setting it at a jaunty angle on Dimity’s head.</p>
<p>“See? Very fetching.” Arabella smiled at her in the mirror, holding her from behind—and kissed her on the neck behind her ear. “You’re almost as tall as I would be without my shoes on now.”</p>
<p>Dimity turned around to the real, non-reflected Arabella and shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re terrible.”</p>
<p>“But you love it,” Arabella teased her.</p>
<p>Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—Arabella knew the exact effect her words would have on Dimity. She tilted the top hat further back on Dimity’s head and pressed her lips to Dimity’s once more, trailing her fingertips across the back of Dimity’s neck, who shivered under her touch.</p>
<p>“I think I’m going to have to get a membership to this bar, aren’t I?”</p>
<p>“You don’t need a membership to kiss me,” Arabella whispered, taking Dimity’s hand. “Consider this all the enrolment you’ll need.”</p>
<p>Dimity grinned, laced her fingers with Arabella’s—but then hesitated, biting her lip for a moment. “Bella?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Dimity?”</p>
<p>“Do you really mean—? Do you want to give this another go? I don’t want you to—regret anything, that’s all.”</p>
<p>Arabella’s playful tone softened and became earnest. “My only regret would be that we didn’t reconcile sooner,” she murmured. “As long as you can forgive me.”</p>
<p>Dimity could only watch as Arabella’s eyes misted over. Arabella had changed so much—and it would have worried her if she had not been so sincere all evening, banter aside. Dimity squeezed Arabella’s hand. “Bella, we’ve both been—well, you know.”</p>
<p>“I’ll never hurt you again,” Arabella vowed. </p>
<p>“I know,” Dimity replied, stroking her thumb over the back of Arabella’s hand. “I can’t promise I’ll never turn you into a worm again—you know, for old times’ sake.”</p>
<p>Arabella laughed. “As long as you find something more comfortable for me than that jar,” she retorted, not missing a beat. “That reminds me—should <i>we</i> go somewhere more comfortable? Not that this isn’t—I’m just quite aware that we could have a quartet of jazz musicians descending upon us at any moment.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Dimity said, her heart fluttering as she thought of where the night could take them next.</p>
<p>“I didn’t bring my broomstick—but I was hoping you might give me a ride home.” Arabella could not help smiling at her own words.</p>
<p>Dimity smirked in response. “Sure, I left it in the cloakroom.”</p>
<p>Once Arabella had collected everything she needed, they headed back through the lounge, which was still teeming with guests, all enjoying the downbeat quartet and thoroughly settled into their refreshments and conversations. </p>
<p>The bar witch caught Dimity as they were passing through. Dimity gave her a confused look—since she was on Arabella’s arm currently and thought she had made it quite clear that she was in no way interested. “Hey—sorry to interrupt you, but thank you so much for sending Clara my way. She found my mirror code on the napkin stuck to your drink and we sort of bonded over it. Got a date this weekend.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Dimity blinked in surprise, before continuing awkwardly, “Right, well, I’m glad it worked out for both of you. Good luck?”</p>
<p>“This better not mean I can’t work this venue any more, Dimity,” Arabella muttered as they walked away, nudging her with their linked elbows.</p>
<p>They safely made their way outside with Dimity’s broom, after a tantalisingly long wait for the cloakroom clerk to retrieve it—but thankfully without any more interruptions, except for the odd look or nod from staff who recognised Arabella as Wormy. The street was cloaked in darkness—it was far past dusk now, and a carpet of stars twinkled overhead in the clear, cloudless skies. Dimity shivered.</p>
<p>“You’re cold,” Arabella said, folding her warm hands over Dimity’s.</p>
<p>“It was warmer when I got here,” Dimity groaned. “I didn’t really dress for coming back late. I kind of thought I’d be going back to Cackle’s early.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t you glad I’m making sure that’s not happening?” Arabella said in a low purr, somewhat suggestively. She shrugged out of her shiny gold-lapelled tuxedo jacket and put it around Dimity’s shoulders. “Better?”</p>
<p>Dimity’s stomach squirmed as she put her arms into the silky soft lining, which was pleasantly warm. As an added bonus, Arabella in her gold waistcoat and shirt sleeves looked irresistible. “Perfect.”</p>
<p>They snuggled up together on the broomstick, and rose up into the night air steadily at Dimity’s command of the broom. It was bizarre to think that she could have been flying back alone—in another version of tonight, where Dimity had chickened out or given up on talking to Arabella, or even if she had not ended up prematurely ending her date with Claramond Cross. Having Arabella so close next to her was quite the distraction, but Dimity managed to keep the broom steady, even as she leaned in close to her and whispered directions to her place near her ear, along with more than a few sweet nothings, as they soared among the stars.</p>
<p>“Shall I fly you to the moon, this time?” Dimity murmured, glancing back at Arabella.</p>
<p>Arabella shook her head, tucking in closer to her. “I don’t need the moon. I have all I need right here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>bonus: Wormy and the Apples setlist! (so many of these are standards so you could have any of your preferred performances! but these were just ones that worked more or less): </p>
<p>Whitney Houston - A Song For You<br/>Sarah Vaughan - You Are Too Beautiful<br/>Sinéad O'Connor - Why Don't You Do Right?<br/>Amy Winehouse - Love is a Losing Game<br/>Julie London - I'll Never Smile Again<br/>Ella Fitzgerald - These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)<br/>Diana Krall - Just the Way You Are<br/>Diana Krall - Fly Me to the Moon<br/>The Claudettes - Our Day Will Come </p>
<p>thank you for reading, and please let me know if you did not hate it in the comments!! aaaa</p></blockquote></div></div>
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